Eating Lessons
by Mistbender
Summary: A teenaged Reno, Tseng, and a formal dinner . . . what sort of hell are we dealing with? T for language


**I don't own them! don't sue me!**

that being said, yes, they're younger here. Reno just joined the Turks, and then the fancy dinner . . .

I feel for Tseng, really I do, but he's just so much fun to pick on!

* * *

**Eating Lessons**

By far, the most difficult assignment Tseng ever dealt with, and there had been many that some would see as harder, was teaching Reno proper dining etiquette.

"I ain't eatin' right? What the hell are you on about this time, dothead? You stick the food in your mouth and chew, ain't that hard to eat."

"Your table manners are atrocious, Reno, and we have an assignment to guard the president at a formal dinner." He sighed, well aware of the hassle this was going to be.

"Formal? There ain't no way for me to get outta this, is there?"

"No. Believe me, I would rather you be excused from this assignment. As you cannot be, I must teach you dining etiquette."

The redhead rolled his eyes and flopped messily into the chair that had been set up with a place setting. Looking at it, he could only wonder who in the world would need so many forks. Picking up a small fork with some thicker tines, he started playing with it, poking it at the napkin, tapping it against the glasses, and generally creating a ruckus.

"First thing" Tseng started, snatching the salad fork from Reno "is that you are not dressed properly. I don't know what you did with your tie, but you will need to unearth it from whatever it is undoubtedly buried under, and wear your uniform properly." This earned a look asking if the Wutaian was insane.

"Hell no, I'm callin in sick."

"You cannot call in sick; you haven't even been told which day it is. Also, if you fail to show, you will be fired."

"Aw, c'mon Tseng! You know puttin' me in a tie is like puttin' the VP in color, it just ain't done!"

"Regardless, you still work for ShinRa, so you will do as you are told." The younger Turk slid further down in the chair, tongue sticking out as though to signify he was dead.

"Sit up straight, Reno."

Grudgingly the lanky teen sat higher in the chair, still slouching, until he felt the muzzle of his superior's gun in the small of his back.

"What the fuck?! Is it really that goddamn important?"

"Yes. Now if you don't want to have it pointed at you again, I'd suggest you listen." Tseng told him, putting the firearm away.

Reno did not slouch again during the training. He did, however, often get his elbows jabbed with various forks for putting them on the table.

"The menu has thankfully already been decided, so I need only train you the proper way to eat certain foods. One of the easiest, and most likely only way you'll remember, ways to determine what fork to use, is to go from the outside in. If you are still uncertain, _discreetly_, and I can not stress that enough, look at someone else's example."

Tseng pointedly ignored the bored and slightly pleading expression on Reno's face, as he went over the utensils and what to do with his napkin.

"Why the hell do they need all these forks for anyways? Wouldn't it be easier to just use one?"

"Because, it is considered more cultured to use one utensil per course. Be glad you have been assigned to this dinner; you may actually learn something from this."

"Yeah, how to be bored out of my mind." The redhead muttered, earning a look of censure from his superior.

Tseng continued with the training, keeping an eye on the teenager to ensure he was paying attention.

"You will not be drinking nor smoking at this dinner. Do not chew your ice cubes, and do not slurp the soup. Your most troubling course will most likely be the escargots."

"The whats?"

"Escargots. It's a delicacy, and comes with a specialized set of utensils." Reno was handed a very narrow fork and an odd looking set of tongs.

"Just what are these ess-car-whatevers anyways?"

"Snails." Tseng ignored the clatter of the utensils falling onto the plate.

"Snails? They're gonna want me to eat some fucking garden pests? Oh fuck you!" he got up to leave, only to come face to face with the dark haired Turk's gun.

"I will not tell you to listen again. I do not wish to tell the president that I needed to eliminate our newest member due to etiquette issues, but if you give me reason enough to, I will."

"I fucking hate you, and I always will." Reno glowered at him, returning to the chair.

"If you would simply listen and remember what I'm attempting to teach you, you won't have any problems. Escargots are often cooked with enough other ingredients to fool the palate. They will most likely taste strongly of garlic and butter."

The training continued for what felt like hours afterwards.

"I really fucking hope I get sick, whatever day it is. If not, after that slimefest course or whatever the fuck it is, if I get sick, I'm lookin for your lap to heave into." Reno threatened as he was finally allowed to leave.

"You will get a refresher course that day. Whether you call in ill or not, you will be going. As much as I regret saying this, you are a valuable asset to the Turks." Tseng got a smirk for his last comment.

"Ya know, maybe I'll enjoy this fancy-shmancy dinner thing afterall." A mischievous gleam lit up the teenager's viridian eyes as he walked out of the office.


End file.
